‘So what am I thinking now?’ Mike held a hand over his own glass and the waiter gave a little bow before moving on.

Allan made a show of screwing shut his eyes in thought. ‘You’re thinking you can do without my smart-arsed remarks,’ he said, opening his eyes again. ‘You’re wishing you could stand in front of our charming hostess for minutes on end – tiptoes or no tiptoes.’ He paused. ‘And you’re just about to suggest a bar where we can get ourselves a real drink.’

‘That’s uncanny,’ Mike pretended to admit.

‘What’s more,’ Allan added, raising his glass in a toast, ‘one of your wishes is about to be granted…’

Yes, because Mike had seen her, too: Laura Stanton, squeezing her way through the throng, heading straight towards them. Almost six feet tall in her heels, auburn hair pulled back into a simple ponytail. She wore a sleeveless knee-length black dress, cut low to show the opal pendant hanging at her throat.

‘Laura,’ Allan drawled, pecking her on both cheeks. ‘Congratulations, you’ve put together quite a sale.’

‘Better tell your employers at First Caly – I’ve got at least two brokers in the room scouting on behalf of rival banks. Everyone seems to want something for the boardroom.’ She had already turned her attention towards Mike. ‘Hello, you,’ she said, leaning forward for another exchange of kisses. ‘I get the feeling nothing’s quite caught your fancy tonight.’

‘Not strictly true,’ Mike corrected her, causing her cheeks to redden.

‘Where did you find the Matthewson?’ Allan was asking. ‘We’ve one from the same series outside the lifts on the fourth floor.’

‘It’s from an estate in Perthshire. Owner wants to buy some adjacent land so developers can’t spoil the view.’ She turned towards him. ‘Would First Caly be interested…?’

Allan offered little more than a shrug and the puffing out of his cheeks.

‘Which is the Matthewson?’ Mike asked.

‘The snowy landscape,’ Laura explained, pointing towards the far wall. ‘Ornate gilt frame… not really your thing, Mike.’